


Enjoy the Ride

by Leticheecopae



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Enemy Lovers, M/M, Motorcycle Sex, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: Cloud doesn't understand why he keeps calling him his 'friend', or why he keeps wanting to fight. All he knows is that he isn't up for another spar. Strangely enough, Roche seems to realize that. He also realizes that Cloud needs something else to help him clear his head.
Relationships: Roche/Cloud Strife
Comments: 18
Kudos: 220





	Enjoy the Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KukkiisArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KukkiisArt/gifts).



> This was requested by the wonderful Kukkii! I had so much fun writing these two, and am so glad so came to me with this. I do hope you all enjoy it as well!

“What’s wrong, you runnin’ of fumes?” 

The quip is either meant to be a distraction or a heckle, but Cloud can’t be sure. Truthfully, he can’t tell much about Roche, the SOLDIER that would probably shake deaths hand and challenge them to a race should they ever show up on their white stallion. Roche would also be so blinded by the lust to compete that he wouldn’t even know who he was racing until he died.

At least, Cloud’s pretty sure he’d end up dead. Though, with the way Roche is fighting now, it might be hard for a reaper to best him.

The strike comes in hot, literally, with a crackle of electricity that sizzles over Cloud’s blade and into his arms, trying to make the nerves go numb and his muscles tense. It makes the next perry hard to complete, leaving him open. 

He knows he’s screwed the second it happens, and Roche is already swinging before he can do anything about it.

“Bare it,” he hisses to himself before taking the hit. He should have cast protect, or shield, or _something_ at the beginning of all this, but his opponent hadn’t done it, so neither had he. Healing was also a no-go, even if it was just a strained promise between two...rivals? Enemies? Friends? 

Roche sure as hell thinks they are closer to the last, though Cloud is having issues wrapping his head around that one. Similarly to how he can’t get Roche’s new fighting pattern down.

The concrete catches him with unyielding hands, knocking the breath out of him as he rolls out of the way of another slash. They may not be fighting to the death, but Roche sure as hell wants to make it as close to possible.

“Come on, you’ve barely even got my motor racing,” Roche calls as Cloud gets back up and on the defensive. He aches. The last thing he needs after all the insanity going on around him is this, but he couldn’t just say no. 

‘No’ meant this bastard showing up at an even more inopportune moment, one that might get people killed. So he’d stood his ground, taken the elixir that had stitched his aching cuts, and erased the bruises into nothing but mere muscle memory. But Cloud’s mind is raw, his resolve shaken, and he keeps losing focus to flickers in his brain.

“Amazing what a little tune-up can due, huh?” Roche bounces on his feet and twitches his sword. Cloud moves to block, only to find the man standing still and smiling. A feint.

“Was the difference between us so small that all it took to catch up was a little work under my hood?”  
“Are you going to keep talking, or are we going to finish this?”

“Why are you always so driven to end things so soon? Why can’t you just enjoy the ride?”

Cloud scowls. 

“You’re the one who wanted to fight, so fi—”

The lunge takes a fraction of a second, Roche crossing their stretch of crumbling highway in the blink of an eye. Cloud brings his sword up, careful to catch the fiery flick that follows, blowing soot around them and into the wind. 

“This isn’t a fight, can’t you tell?” Roche says as their blades grind together, creating sparks between them that catch and fizzle on their clothing. “This is a _dance_.” Roche spins, releasing the pressure against Cloud’s blade, disappearing from his vision only for steel to stop his stumble forward.

His brain expects the metal to be hair-thin, cold, but instead finds the sword’s edge is blunted, made for stabbing more than slashing. It is a hot line against his throat, still warm from Roche’s fire, lightning, and the friction of their blades.

“I was hoping it would last longer,” Roche says as he stands behind him, his body boxing Cloud into the blade as Cloud stands still. The edge may be slightly blunted when pressed against his throat, but a push or pull and Cloud's blood will be spilling out onto the ground, and he won’t have the voice to cast Cure.

“Sure you did too,” Roche hums, and Cloud is surprised when he finds warmth nuzzling into the side of his neck. “I can tell you have something on your mind, friend. Something is gunking up your pipes and slowing you down. Can’t have that, now, can we?”

The hand that pushes to Cloud’s chest seems to spread over his sternum forever. Roche’s hand is so large. Long, calloused fingers, thick with the strength it takes to swing around the hybrid between saber and sword brace him, careful and caressing. Part of him wants to sag against it, let it hold him up for a moment. Instead, Cloud keeps at attention, head held high by the blade as he holds his sword at the ready, even if he has no hopes of reaching his foe. 

“Gotta keep this machine in your chest in tip-top shape, or what’s the point of getting it to race?” Roche’s words are a tickle of exhaust over Cloud’s neck, warm with their heat of battle, but with no burn. 

“When’s the last time you just took a spin around the block? No place to go, no one to see; just you with roaring chrome between your thighs?”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” Cloud replies, keeping his eyes pointed forward and his back straight. 

“Come on, you can’t tell me there’s nothing in you right now that just wants to hop on a bike and _go_.” The hand on his sternum starts to travel, moving over Cloud’s pec and to the underside of his bicep. Roche’s other hand holds the blade motionless against his throat. “Everyone wants to escape now and then, and what better place than the road? As long as you follow it, you’ll never get lost, but you also never know where it’s gonna take you.” 

Roche’s hand slides down Cloud’s arm, a dance of changing pressure until he reaches Cloud’s wrist. He stops, and with only slight insistence, pushes down against Cloud's arm. 

“I didn’t know it was going to bring me to you,” Roche says as he silently asks Cloud to relax the weapon, “And I couldn’t be happier. Finally found someone who puts the pedal to the metal as much as I do. Or at least you did.”

Cloud’s arms spring back up, and he’s surprised to feel how far Roche had managed to make his stance slip.

“Listen, you son of a bitch, I—”

“Whoa there,” Roche’s voice is still strangely friendly, but not with his usual maniacal energy. It’s toned down, more of a purr than a roar. 

Cloud’s not sure how to feel about that, especially when the hand on his wrists stays as just a soft pressure. 

“I’m not saying you’ve lost your spark, bud. I can tell it’s still in there, just getting choked out by all the smog belching out of your chest. It’s like with any machine, you can only go into the red in one place at a time, or you’ll blow. Whatever’s going on has your brain is way, way past the red line, so this amazing machine you’ve toned up and created can’t push it further than a quick burst of speed, am I right?”

Cloud doesn’t say anything, just finds himself looking out past the destruction that has constantly been swallowing Midgar ever since he showed up. He has thought about leaving multiple times. Kept telling himself he could find a way to make money somewhere else, find a place away from those he’d started to have traces of fondness for and keep them safe. Keep them away from _him_.

“There ya go, Spitfire,” Roche murmurs as Cloud rests the tip of his sword against the asphalt, his hands gripping the hilt loosely. “You ready to go for a little ride?”

“How do I know this isn’t just a trick for you to off me?”

“Even if it was a command from the tip-top of the highest tower, there’s no way I would destroy something as wonderful as you,” Roche coos. It makes Cloud huff a chuckle as Roche pulls his sword away. He doesn’t turn around; he just stands and looks out over the rubble as he hears Roche’s sword slide into his sheath. 

“Ooooo, was that a laugh? Come on, let me hear it again. You choked up on the clutch a little too fast there.”

“Shut up.”

“I bet you have a nice laugh; revs up like a v8 and rumbles through ya. You ticklish?” The question is followed by two sets of hands grabbing at Cloud’s waist from behind.

His blade swings up quickly, but he stops it well above Roche’s head, the blunt side down and resting on Cloud’s shoulder.

“Tickle me, and you’re riding alone.”

“Alright, alright,” Roche says, though his hands stay. “Another time then.” He gently pushes them forward, towards his bike, and Cloud allows him to guide him by the waist. He feels a prickle of unease at having someone at his back, like any SOLDIER, would, but something tells him Roche isn’t about to take the opening. His hands staying on Cloud’s waist helps. They’re big, used to working with a sword one-handed, and seemingly equal in their muscle mass.

“Are you ambidextrous?” Cloud asks the question aloud, not meaning to, but he gets a laugh out of the man behind him. 

“Aw, you paid attention.”

Cloud feels a flicker of humor in his chest before they reach the bike where Roche releases him.

“Good sir,” the man says with a theatrical bow towards the seat.

He hesitates. 

“In front?”

“Of course,” Roche replies as he pats the hood of the bike. “The closer to the engine, the easier it is to feel her eat up the miles.” 

Cloud looks at him blankly.

“Aaaand, I can see where your hands are.”

That gets Cloud to shake his head, though good-humoredly. This is more surreal than a lot of things that have happened recently, and a lot has happened.

“Alright,” he says as he climbs on, careful to keep his sword pointed so that the sharper side of his buster is pointed forward. “Better than riding bitch, I guess.”

Roche’s laugh tears through the evening, making Cloud turn quickly to watch him pull in mouth fulls of air that fuel the laughter that pours out of him.

“Spitfire's got jokes, who’d’ve known?” He climbs on behind Cloud, molding himself against the other’s back. He’s not much taller than he is, forcing Cloud to shift slightly as Roche settles in to see around his hair. 

“My names Cloud, not Spit-fire,” he says over the roar of the engine as Roche brings it to life. 

“Yeah, well, when you’re with me, babe, it’s Spit-fire.”

“Wait, did you just call me ba—” His voice is lost as they take off like a shot, faster than the time they had fought on the highway. 

_"He's been holding back,”_ he thinks to himself as Roche maneuvers through the obstacles around them as if they were nothing more than puddles of water on the sidewalk. But that doesn’t seem right. Roche doesn’t seem like a person to hold back. _"Maybe...maybe he was just evening the playing field.”_

The wind catches against his chest and pushes him back. He finds himself braced by Roche’s body, his arms pushing tight against Cloud’s biceps as they roar down the road. Roche gives a whoop before he does a wheelie, making Cloud slide back against him.

“Where are we going?” Cloud shouts as Roche cuts off of the crumbling highway and up what used to be a support beam, using it to ramp his way upward. They are heading towards the city, toward Shinra.

“Don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head,” Roche says, his voice somehow carrying over the roar of the wind. “We’ve got nowhere planned.”

“How far are we going?” Cloud yells, eyes tracking buildings as they pass by in such a blur he’s not sure which are whole and which aren’t.

“As far as you’ll let me, babe.” 

The amount of tenderness in that sentence surprises him. Cloud ignores the little puff of warmth that it brings and instead focuses on the erratic pattern or precise turns and jumps Roche leads them through, heading first toward and then past the monolith in the center of the city and toward an unknown ending. As the building disappears behind them, Cloud feels a knot in his belly start to dissipate; one that he had been well aware of but ignored. So Roche wasn’t turning him in, but actually taking him on this ride. The further they get from the tower, the more Cloud relaxes until he finds himself settling against Roche.

“You trust me?” Roche calls over the roar. It takes Cloud by surprise.

“Not really.”

“Fair, but you can’t really enjoy the ride while taking care of this.” He pats Cloud’s arm, the one that holds his buster. “My scabbard is magnetized on the outside. Could hold it just fine.”

Cloud feels apprehension grow in his belly. Let Roche take his sword? 

“Hands will stay where you can see or feel them, promise,” he adds. “If they don’t, you can blow me off the bike with a spell.”

If Roche was going to kill him, would he ask? 

It feels sacrilegious to hand the sword to the outstretched hand, but when Cloud sees how gingerly Roche takes it, some of the apprehension slips away. Cloud watches him over his shoulder and notes the way Roche puts it against his back. Roche tests the connection, making sure that the blade is in place before he wiggles his fingers at Cloud and put his hand back on the handlebar.

“Now, just relax,” he calls. “Just feel the road.”

Cloud stares at him for a moment longer, at the buster’s handle over his shoulder, and then turns. 

Warmth, hotter than his blade had been but oh-so-soft, settles into a slash of a smile against his neck. Cloud tries to ignore it, but the skin-on-skin just makes him realize how warm Roche is. Even with the wind whipping around them, Cloud feels it seeping into his back. He tells himself that the only reason he’s settling back against Roche is to stave off the chill and keep himself steady on the bike, not because it feels like being wrapped in a sunbeam. Between his thighs, the bike rumbles away. It’s different than when he’s driven one. Sitting like this, without having to pay attention to where he’s going, or having to keep track of anything, he’s more aware of the vibrations that tremble up through his thighs and into his groin. 

Cloud tries to ignore it as they go, Roche taking them in winding, twisting patterns through the city. Somehow, despite his erratic driving, and the occasional zipping across rooftops, Cloud finds himself relaxing. His body starts to grow loose, thighs trembling with the roar of the bike, and despite his best efforts, he feels himself grow half-hard from the vibrations.

He shifts, and when he does, he feels something firm against his lower back. Cloud jerks forward when he does, but he finds Roche’s hand on his thigh, stopping him. 

“Don’t be shy, Spit-fire,” he calls. “It’s just what the ride does.”

“What are you talking about?” he calls back, a burn on his cheeks. 

Roche’s response is to let go of his thigh and instead grab his waist. The tug isn’t forceful, just guiding, and it brings Cloud’s backside against Roche’s crotch. He can feel the hard length of Roche’s cock straining in his uniform.

“Totally natural,” Roche says as he lets Cloud’s waist go with a slight squeeze. “Be lying if I said she didn’t get me off more than anything else.”

Cloud’s hips stay for only a second longer before he shifts so that his back is pushed against Roche’s chest instead of his lower body.

“Too fast?” Roche calls. Cloud knows he’s not talking about the ride. For a moment, he says nothing, just lets the bike eat up the miles towards their destination. Finally, he shakes his head. He finds another hand on his thigh, and when it squeezes, he allows himself to relax back. Roche drapes himself along Cloud’s back, letting some of his weight settle against his spine as they drive. Cloud hates to admit it, but he doesn’t mind that pressure. He feels covered, shielded, as if his buster is settled against his spine.

He is surprised when they start to head down again, back into the shanty towns and areas splashed in colorful graffiti. It swims past like a rainbow blur. The further they get away from the city, the faster they seem to go. The bike devours the road as they drive. Roche’s arm wraps around his waist, and Cloud lets it. He’s pulled tight against him, held, but he feels that if he were to push away —even just a little— Roche would release him. 

_"I must finally be going insane,”_ he thinks to himself as he pushes back, pressing his body fully into the man behind him. Roche’s face pushes into his neck and breathes in.

“You’ve got the throttle. You control the speed we go,” he murmurs into his ear. As he says it, he guides Cloud’s hands to the bike’s handlebars. Cloud allows them to be moved, grips them tight, and doesn’t let the speed falter. They’re speeding outward, into the lands around Midgar, leaving behind the steel and despair and into the growing darkness of night. 

Cloud watches the road, intent on keeping them on it at their current speed. It looks like it’s a straight shot off into the darkness, but he’s not going to take it for granted. Even as the hands start to trace over his chest, dipping down to where he has grown fully hard, he doesn’t look away. 

He speeds up. 

Roche’s hands stutter for only a moment before their slow descent quickens, undoing his belts and undoing the zipper and buttons of his pants. As soon as the fabric is pulled apart, Roche’s hand slips inside. Cloud can’t tell if his breath is taken away more by the sensation of warm leather on his cock or the chilly wind that whips around them. 

“Amazing what the road can do to ya, isn’t it?” Roche asks. The wind tries to take the words from Cloud, but he hears them, though he can’t create his own. Instead, he nods, hands steady on the handlebars. Roche’s hands keep moving, stroking Cloud as they drive. The leather-clad hand disappears for a moment, and he feels the arms around his waist shifting before Roche’s hand, this time warm and leatherless, returns to fist around the head of Cloud’s cock. Calluses scrap along his shaft as Roche pumps him. 

“How ya doin’?” he asks, mouth tracing Cloud’s ear before the lips travel to his neck.

“Fine.” Cloud keeps the word short, doing his best not to let his tone tremble. Roche hums, the sound lost to Cloud though the feeling of his lips vibrating against his throat is clear. Roche’s other hand moves between the two of them, and Roche scoots back just a bit. His chest continues to push against Cloud’s back, but his hips make room for his hand. This one, too, is missing the leather. It pushes down the cloth of Cloud’s pants, and in return, Cloud stands slightly on the footpegs. 

Roche’s hands move quickly, pulling the fabric down just enough to sit tight against his thighs, leaving his backside bare. The bunched fabric does some to shield his cock from the whipping wind, but it still bites at his skin, making him shudder as he sits back down.

“Hands are moving for just a moment. They’ll be right back,” Roche says into his ear. Cloud nods.

The hands disappear, and as promised, they quickly reappear. At first, Cloud’s not sure where they went, but when he feels that they are moving against his belly, he realizes Roche is holding something.

“Just lube,” he tells him as Cloud eases off the clutch slightly. To prove it, something cold and slick dribbles onto his cock, the wind spreading it to splash against his lower belly. Cloud hits the throttle in surprise, and Roche laughs.

“Careful now,” he calls over the wind as he fists Cloud’s slicked length. “Don’t want to end it early, do ya?”

Cloud shakes his head, eyes fluttering closed for just a second before he quickly opens them. He needs to focus on the road. Keep them alive. 

Roche keeps stroking him for a while; long pumps that make Cloud’s breathing grow uneven. The hand disappears again, and he feels the hands moving in front of him again. He expects the hand to return to his cock, but instead, he finds the slicked fingers moving between the two of them, sliding down the crack of his ass to push between his cheeks. Cloud leans forward without thinking, his brain focussing on the road while his body moves to gain release. Roche’s finger circles his hole, pulsing against it. 

The first whimper leaves Cloud as he is breached. The calloused finger is thicker than his own, and while he has pleasured himself before, it has been a while. It stings slightly, and Roche must realize it as he stills. He waits, letting Cloud adjust. Roche doesn’t make a move until Cloud signals he’s ready to continue by pushing back. 

Roche moves, sliding slowly inside until his palm cups Cloud’s ass, squeezing with his other free fingers before moving the one seated inside Cloud in circles. Cloud pants through his nose, eyes watering as he watches the road and slowly leans them to the left around a turn. The finger in him pushes right, making the muscles ripple and his legs spasm. The arm around his waist holds him steady. 

“Good, good,” Roche says against the nape of his neck, though the words are almost lost to him. Once they are around the turn, Roche keeps going. The finger begins to pump in and out, removing the burn and instead igniting the nerves in pleasure. When he adds a second finger, there is barely a burn, and Cloud can’t stop the little sounds that escape his throat and are ripped away by the wind. Roche pumps his fingers, spreads them, and twists them inside Cloud, causing the bike to drift slightly. Cloud doesn’t let it happen for long, but he is glad that they are no longer in the city. Out here, in the dark of the night, there are no other vehicles to worry about.

The third finger slides in along with a copious amount of lube, pushing it deep into Cloud and slicking his insides for what he knows is to come. Just from what he had felt pushing against him earlier, he knows that Roche is not small. He also knows that the prep that he’s done will make it easy to take, or at least easier. 

“Ready?” Roche asks with a little jerk of his fingers, twisting his hand so that they can curl towards Cloud’s stomach and press deliciously into his prostate. Cloud jerks, and if not for Roche’s other hand appearing over his own to keep the bike steady, he’s sure they would be on the side of the road.

“Careful there, Spit-fire,” Roche laughs as he slides his fingers out. “Looks like it’s time for me to drive.”

Cloud just nods and moves to lay on the hood of the bike. It is strikingly warm against his skin, warming him as the wind whips by. Behind him, Roche shifts, and it isn’t long before Cloud feels his cock head push against his hole. There is some resistance as it pushes, and he can feel the other’s hand lining it up. The second the head pops inside, though, the hand disappears and then reappears on the other handlebar.

“Alright, Spit-fire,” Roche calls out. “Time to ride!” He gives out a crazed whoop before he pushes himself forward, seating himself halfway into Cloud as he settles into the bike’s seat. Cloud expects him to thrust again, but instead, Roche stays still. He pants, waiting, but realizes that Roche isn’t going to move. He’s not the one riding after all.

With a groan, Cloud braces his hands against the bike’s hood and moves back. His body swallows the rest of Roche down to the hilt. He pants as he begins to set as much of a pace as he can. At most, Cloud can roll his hips, riding Roche’s cock as he pushes his own dick against the warm leather and metal of the bike. The lube from before keeps the friction slick and pleasurable, and Cloud finds himself grinding himself against the bike as much as he does against Roche.

“That’s right,” Roche says above him, mouth coming close to his ear. “Let her take care of ya. Enjoy the ride, feel the way she rumbles, and let it stoke that engine of yours.” Cloud gasps as he keeps moving, riding Roche and writhing against the bike as they shoot through the darkness. “Just feel the road between your thighs. Feel it rumble through me and into you,” Roche pants. Cloud can’t tell if they’re speeding up again or if it’s just his body as he moves as much as he can, pulling halfway off before slamming back. The leather of his gloves slip against the bike’s hood, causing him to claw at it as he keeps moving.

The sensations are rattling him apart: the vibration of the engine against his cock, the way it rumbles through Roche’s shaft and grinds against his prostate, and how Roche’s hips never move. They stay still, leaving Cloud to set the pace, and he wants, <>needs, to move faster. 

“There you go,” Roche pants as Cloud starts to move quick and erratic against him, managing to brace with his palms on the hood and feet catching on the footpegs. “Just like that, babe.” 

His orgasm builds with each mile, revving up and up until it pushes him into the red. He stares off into the dark; watches the road being eaten by the headlight and disappearing behind them. 

_“It’s beautiful,”_ he thinks to himself just before Roche shifts and pulls on the handlebars. Cloud cries out as the front wheel pops upward, his body sliding back, and he cries out as his body takes every inch of Roche, the angle of the bike having Roche slide right against the sweet bundle of nerves inside him. Then the bike comes down, the front wheel bouncing, making his body shudder around Roche, and orgasm roars over him.

Cloud cries out over the engine, his body going tight as his eyes roll into the back of his head, and his hands scramble to find something to hold on to. One of them finds slick fingers, and he clutches to them as he rides out the orgasm, hips spasming as he milks his cock against the seat. Above him, he can hear Roche saying things to him, but he can’t quite understand them. They are calm, supportive, and tinged with glee as Cloud lays against the hood of the bike and tries to get his breath back.

He doesn’t realize they’ve stopped until he finds Roche’s hands petting his back and his mouth kissing the nape of his neck. For a few moments, he just lets them move over him. Like the wind, they trace every curve of him, pushing into his skin, but leaving trails of heat instead of the cold. It sets his nerves singing in his afterglow. 

“Hey there,” Roche murmurs when Cloud groans after a particularly pleasurable press into his spine.

Finally, Cloud turns his head toward the other. 

“W-where are—?” he asks as he starts to sit up, though he quickly lays forward again, a groan on his lips. Roche is still inside him: thick and hard. How had he not cum?

“Just a little way outside the city,” Roche replies with a chuckle as he shifts minutely, making Cloud shudder. “Though I need to be heading back. Much as I want to keep on riding with ya, duty calls.”

Ice floods into Cloud’s chest, pushing away the afterglow. Cloud turns his head sharply, one hand making a fist as he gets ready to call up a spell.

“Shh, relax, babe. Nothing to do with you,” Roche assures, massaging the tension away and allowing the afterglow's tendrils to creep back in. “Few rogue bots is all. But don’t worry, I can take care of them easy, as long as you want to stay for the ride.” He jerks his hips just a little, making Cloud cry out as a shock of pleasure fills him. 

“Sound good?” 

Cloud whimpers as the bike revs under him. While he can’t vocalize his agreement, he can nod.

“God-damn, you almost sound better than her motor,” Roche murmurs as he shifts his hips again. Cloud’s body flutters around him. 

“Alright then, Spit-fire,” Roche says as he leans down to push a kiss to his shoulder. “Keep my engine warm for me. I’ll finish my ride after work.”

Before Cloud can say anything, they shoot off into the night, Roche making a hard turn as Cloud clings to the bike. Roche’s cock is still seated deep inside him. Cloud pants, his face pressed to the hot hood of the bike as they head back towards the city. The vibrations leave him panting, the cock inside him shorting out his brain every time he tries to move. Cloud gives up trying to move after a while, and instead, he just lays against the bike, his body firmly seated on Roche’s cock, and he enjoys the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on twitter or CuriousCat!  
> [NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/leticheecopae)  
> [SFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/FluffyLeti)  
> [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/leticheecopae)


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